Bear Cuffs (Broken Hill Bears #3)(8)
The teachers were delighted to meet her, and offered her a job immediately. It was a friendly, welcoming place, and she found herself looking forward to adding some of her own touches. She was passionate about educating kids, and providing them with a happy environment to nurture their creativity, so she was always seeking out innovative ways to change things for the better. She got to know Broken Hill's other newest residents too. At first she'd been so shocked to discover that Xander's mate, Freya, and Braxton's mate, Neve, were humans that she could barely speak to them, but she was quickly discovering that they were great company, and good sources of advice about what it was like to be a new arrival in the territory.
None of these things made up for the life she'd given up in Pine Bluff, but they helped to take the edge off her sadness and make her loneliness a little more bearable.
The following Wednesday, Rocco came home from a training session earlier than expected and Harper was still in the kitchen cooking. She usually chose to cook when she knew that he'd be out, and she stiffened at the sound of the front door crashing back against the wall.
"Hey," Rocco said coming into the kitchen.
"Hey." She automatically threw him a glance over her shoulder. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes and his hair was sticking up in clumps. She recalled how she used to tease him about how he always mussed it on the rare occasions when he was stressed, making him look like a crazy man.
"Got a math test coming up?" she said.
"Huh?" He started scrubbing at the back of his head again.
"I was wondering why you were giving your hair such a hard time."
"Oh." He smirked. "It's nothing. I don't want to burden you with it. I should get out of your way anyway." He reached into the fridge for a bottle of beer. "I'm just going to go hunt some dinner." She couldn't restrain a little grin. "What is it?" He stood still, the half-smile that she knew so well crooking the edges of his lips.
"Isn't it time you learned to cook, so you can enjoy having a civilized meal that your mom hasn't made for you?" she said.
"I guess." He shrugged, self-conscious, and she couldn't help softening. She made a quick decision and before she had time to change her mind, she blurted it out.
"I'll make a deal with you. I'll teach you how to cook the venison stew I'm making, in exchange for a couple of those beers." He broke into a grin – the one that made him look like James Dean about to take off on his bike.
"For real?"
"For real."
Wondering why she was being so nice to him, she showed him how to chop the vegetables efficiently and prepare and season the meat, and he got down to work. The first swig of beer relaxed her immediately, and she let her guard slip a little. Although Rocco was following her instructions with enthusiasm, she sensed that whatever was bothering him was continuing to weigh on his mind.
"So what happened today?" she said. The stew was in the oven, already smelling delicious, and they were sitting at the kitchen table. He let off a long, weary rumble.
"Oh, Xander keeps pressuring me about fighting again."
"How long has it been since you last wrestled?"
"Three months. He was patient with me at first, after what happened, but he's getting more and more frustrated now." She looked down at his hands, which were laying on the table, scarred with huge knuckles, and up at his face, full of conflicted emotions, and once again she was struck by how strong and heroic his features were – that broad, angular jaw and the sharply defined cheekbones.
"But fighting was your life. What happened?" At first he was silent, as if wondering how much to say. Then he got up, grabbed another beer, and told her everything – about how affected he'd been by losing the fight and getting knocked out by the Brook's Bear. How shattered he'd been by the betrayal by two of his own clan members. And then how Maximus' betrayal had damaged the clan, so soon after his father had died. Harper listened quietly, forgetting about the chasm between them. For a moment it was just her and Rocco, sitting close, sharing the secrets they could never tell anyone else – just like they used to.
"Thanks, Harper," Rocco said when he was done. "Everyone's told me that I've got no reason to think that I'll lose another fight. But no-one understands my fear of losing like you do. How it paralyzes me." For a moment he looked so broken that, without thinking, she reached out and squeezed his hand.
"That's because we spent our formative years together, Rocco," she said. "We shared a lot of stuff, sitting up in that old hay barn, hanging out in the bleachers after school, taking your battered old pickup out for long drives."
"We did." He grinned, nodding slowly. She knew he wanted to say more – that they were good times – but he wouldn't. He understood that it would hurt her.
"I think dinner's ready," she said, standing up quickly. Rocco got up too, ladled out the portions into two bowls, and they began to eat.
"Good job, kiddo. This is pretty good," she said.
"Thanks. It's an old recipe of mine," he drawled.
"Doofus!" she kicked him under the table. And suddenly, they were having fun, mocking each other, laughing at each other's quirks. Rocco still stretched his legs underneath the table as if he had no idea that there was anyone on the other side. And apparently she still threw her head back when she laughed, at anything at all.
It was past ten when they cleared the plates up.
"Are you going to bed?" he asked.
"I guess so."
"We could go for a drink?" She opened her mouth to say yes. She felt like being out in a bar, continuing their playful conversation. But then something shifted in her head. It was one thing hanging out in 'their' home, but another drinking together.
"I can't. I don't think it's a good idea," she said instead. He made no effort to hide the disappointment in his eyes.
"Okay." He closed the dishwasher. "Then goodnight, Harper. Sleep well." He left the room, and a minute later the front door closed and the engine of his motorbike roared into life.
The following Saturday, Harper drove out to Randolph, the nearest big town to Broken Hill, to pick up a few cushions for the cabin sofas. She'd didn't even know why she was doing it, except that the sofa currently looked a little bare and unloved, she told herself.
She had fun wandering around the bustling town, stopping for coffee and lunch. She picked out a couple of handmade ceramic vases, as she loved having flowers in the house, some emerald-green and mustard yellow cushions, and a deep pink and indigo throw, then spent several minutes staring into space, trying to figure out whether Rocco would hate them. At last, she shook herself. Why do I even care? He told me to make myself at home, and if he doesn't like them, that's his problem. She picked up a sunburnt-orange throw for good measure, and purchased them all.
Back home now, she thought as she walked out of the store. And she caught herself. Like it or not, Broken Hill was becoming her home now. In the weeks that had passed, the initial weirdness was easing off. She now knew where she was before she opened her eyes every morning; she no longer felt awkward using the kitchen. Am I happy to be going home now? she asked herself, cranking the window of her car all the way open and letting the sweet-scented breeze stream in. And then the car lost power, very suddenly. She had just enough time to pull over to the side of the road before it came to a dead stop. She tried to start it up several times; nothing happened. It was as dead as a dinosaur. An alert was flashing on the dash. EPC, it said. She Googled it. It didn't seem to mean anything good. With a sigh, she picked up her phone. Then she hesitated. Who am I going to call anyway? One of Tarkus' cousins usually dealt with broken-down cars. Rocco, of course. With an even longer sigh, she dialed his number. There was a delay of 12 rings before he answered.
"Hey, Harper?" He seemed to be yelling above traffic and she thought that he sounded happy to hear from her.
"Hey, Rocco. My car's dead. Something to do with EPC, whatever that might be, and I'm just outside of Randolph. Is there anyone at Broken Hill who fixes cars?"
"There sure is. Hang in there a moment and I'll speak to Jed." A minute later, he was back on the line. "He's tied up for another three hours, and he says you'll need a tow. I'm not far away though. I'll come pick you up and we can drop him the key."